Gale and Dewey
by browskiii
Summary: Gale and Dewey are married and living a happy life, but someone isn't happy that they are alive. Pretty intense story, please R
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters or the movie.

**Gale and Dewey**

Chapter 1

Gale enjoyed the alone time, her million dollar condo all empty and though she missed Dewey, she hoped he would be home late. Her pure white terrier, jumped up onto her lap, she welcomed Max, and the comedy marathon she was watching was hilarious, she figured she should stop, and go fix dinner. The walk to the kitchen was long, she had to walk up a flight of stairs and go through two hallways. When she finally reached it, Max had followed her the whole way. Dewey's laptop was left on the table, under a few files and loose papers. She opened the fridge and grabbed the perfectly thawed chicken of the second shelf, and placed it on the counter. Gale pulled a medium sized knife out of drawer that was level to her hips; the house was so silent that when the phone rang she jumped slightly. Her skinny fingers looked like tentacles wrapped around the receiver when she lifted it off the base and up too her ear.

"Hello."

"Hello."

"Who's this," she felt a sudden rage of anger when she heard the voice, the voice that Billy Loomis and all the other killers used when they called their victims over the phone; another punk kid trying the same prank she had heard at least twenty times a week.

"Gale, you sound angry. Is something the matter?" This caller was different, the sound of his voice entered her ear and ran through her whole body, it dripped down her back and ran off into chills through her torso.

"Do you have any idea how many times this prank has been pulled? You're the fourth asshole this week to call me with the same bullshit voice, and scary questions, its not original, its been done, and I can promise you one thing, if you ever call me again it will be the last thing you ever do," she dropped the phone back on the base and just stared at it. The ghost face that tried kill her several times floated all around her, its screaming face as terrifying as it was fake. Gale closed her eyes and pushed the thoughts aside. She picked up the knife again, and started cutting the boneless chicken into small strips. The knife sliced the meat smoothly, like a knife through skin, and the cutting board beneath it would be the bone it was scraping, the screaming mask was the only thing she was thinking about, it's black and lifeless eyes so menacing.

She heard a door slam shut, she jumped again and turned around. Her kitchen seemed larger than usual, and the fear of who just entered her house was now the only thing Gale was thinking about. Her feet made a mellow sound on the floor, as she slowly made her way toward the front door. It was closed.

"Dewey?" She continued past the front door. Her eyes covered every inch of the condo as she walked through it. A large hand made a gentle squeeze on her shoulder, the fear was at its height, she ran forward and spun around, her scream was loud, it filled the room and as she turned she saw her husband standing there puzzled.

"Jesus, Dewey you scared the shit out of me," she had one hand on her chest, trying to slow down her heart, and her deep breaths started to calm down.

"Sorry, Gale, You okay?"

"Yeah I'm fine, why didn't you answer me when I called you?"

"I didn't hear you," his face was tired so she wasn't going to keep bugging him about this.

"It's fine; I was just cooking dinner, you hungry?" She said, her voice was still winded.

"Starved, what are we having?"

"Uh...chicken...we're having chicken," Dewey hid his disappointment of having the meal he had only two nights ago very well, because Gale didn't even notice.

"Gale, are you okay, your acting a little strange," he reached his arms out and wrapped them around her, she returned the hug.

"I'm alright, some kid called doing the voice."

"Again, what's that the fourth time this week?" She could tell he was surprised that this bothered her, "Since when does this bother you, you should be used to it by now."

"Yeah, but this one was different, something about him, I can't explain it," she was a little intimidated by the caller, but she just shook it off, stopped hugging him, and went back into the kitchen to finish dinner. Gale watched as Dewey sat down at the table, and got angry because he had a large yellow stain straight down the left side. He moved all the papers around his laptop, pressed the gray button on the computer, and watched the computer come to life. Gale dropped the knife in the sink when she was done cutting the yellow meat; the phone started screaming to be answered again. Her heart started pounding in her chest.

She turned and looked at Dewey; he was watching her as she lifted the phone to her ear.

"Hello," her voice was filled with fright.

"Why did you hang up on me?" The evil voice called her back, and she knew that tonight was going to end badly.

"What do you want?"

"That looks like an expensive shirt Dewey's wearing, does it bother you that he ruins all the nice things you buy him because he eats like a pig?"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

She wasn't even sure if she was still alive, she looked out the window in front of her, the thought that he could see her and she couldn't see him made the fear even worse. The darkness outside was his cover, she kept wondering when would he strike? She figured he would taunt her first, keep torturing her over the phone, then he would torture her for real. Gale turned and faced Dewey, concern was in his eyes.

"You can see me?"

"Uh-huh."

"What am I doing right now," she lifted her hand in the air with her middle finger held high.

"Who the hell do you think your dealing with? I'm not playing! You're going to die tonight Gale Weathers, with Dewey by your side!" She heard the click of the killer's phone, he had hung up.

"Dewey we have to get out of here," she dropped the phone, it spread out into three pieces on the floor as it smashed. Gale grabbed his arm and picked him up out of the chair, she felt a small tear gathering in her eye. As she pulled him out of the kitchen, the silence of the house was broken with shattered glass falling on the tile floor. The plane solid window was now nothing but jagged glass, and there was a white package guilty for breaking the window lying on the floor.

"Dewey, go get your gun," as he ran off to the bedroom she walked over to the package on the floor, each chunk of glass was like a puzzle piece around it. Gale ripped off the first layer of paper, and she couldn't have been more surprised at what was thrown through the window. A ghost face on the cover, and small streaks of blood running down it. The title on the book said _The Woodsborrow Murders_ and the authors name was her own. Gale looked at her book and didn't understand, she opened the front cover, the killer had written her a note:

_Who do you think will write the story of __**your**__ murder?_

"Come on, Gale," Dewey said as he dragged her away from the book, his gun held tight with the other hand.

"Dewey, what do we do?" The second she had finished her sentence, every light in the house died. Dewey cocked the handgun.

"He turned off the electricity; he must be at the circuit breaker in the basement. Gale, I want you to run out the front door and get help."

"I'm not leaving you here."

"You have to, go next door and use the neighbors phone to call the police," she knew he was right but she didn't want to believe it. She stood up on her toes, and kissed him, preying that it wouldn't be the last time.

"I'll be back in five minutes, be careful," she grabbed him with her arms, "I love you."

"I love you too," he whispered, "now go."

Gale walked away from him, she felt around in the dark for the railing as she slowly walked down each step, wondering how long it would be before she came face to face with ghost face again, and his blade. The hardwood floor of the stairs were like ice on the bottoms of her feet, she reached the bottom step and stared down the hall to the front door. The walk was so short, maybe ten steps if she ran. Gale took the first step, and stopped, they thought the killer was in the basement, and to get to the front door, you had to pass the basement door, which was wide open.

She took the second step, if she had been asked; she wouldn't be able to tell anyone what she was feeling. Third step, next step would be level with the basement door. Gale couldn't bring herself to take the fourth step; she knew the second she passed it she would meet ghost face again. _Run,_ she thought, _just run past the basement door, and out the front door. On three, one, two, three!_

She ran. She didn't even look in the basement as she ran past it, almost there. The door handle of the front door was also cold; she twisted the deadbolt back, and swung the door open. Gale looked outside, and realized something. What happens after this? This is the fourth killer, who's after him? Gale Weathers realized it would never end, and that there is some thing worse than death and one of them was living this way, waiting to die. These were the exact thoughts that ran through her head as she stared into the black eyes and screaming ghost face, who was standing on her front porch, with a knife in his hand.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The familiarity of the ghost face was the worst, she hated that she knew it so well and that she couldn't even move. Gale had to move when Ghost Face raised the knife over his head and lunged at her, she slammed the door as quickly as possible but it wasn't quick enough. The knife stuck through the door, but with his weight pushed against the other side, she couldn't close it all the way. The killer pushed one hard thrust on the door and Gale fell far backwards onto the ground.

"DEWEY!" She screamed as loud as possible. As she lay on her back on the floor, kicking and pushing herself, tying to stand up, Ghost Face kneeled quickly, and stabbed the knife straight through Gale's ankle. Her scream was so loud and ear piercing, and as soon as it left her mouth, there was a loud gun shot behind her, and Ghost Face fell backwards, with a hole in his black robe. As he fell backwards, he pulled the knife out of Gale's ankle. She turned to face her husband, with his arms outstretched in front of him, and a smoking gun in his hands.

"Dewey shoot him again," Gale's voice was shaking, as she tried to speak through her cries. Ghost Face wasn't moving.

"Shoot him again, Dewey!" She screamed again.

"Gale, he's dead."

"Shoot him again!'

"He's not moving, Gale, he's dead," he helped her up off the ground, her ankle was bleed profusely.

"They're never dead! Shoot him again!" Gale was crying so hard, and hugging her husbands arm. Dewey grabbed the sleeve of her shirt and gave one hard yank; the sleeve tore away from the rest of the shirt with a loud ripping sound. He kneeled down by her ankle and put the gun on the ground by his side. As he used the torn sleeve as a band aid around her ankle, Ghost Face raised his head and looked at Gale. His motionless face told you the only thing it had on its mind, murder. He got to his feet quickly, considering he had just been shot. She hadn't noticed him, until he was standing up straight and walking toward her.

"He's still alive, Dewey!" Before Dewey could even comprehend what she had said, Ghost Face hit Gale with the butt of his knife, and she fell to the ground dizzy.

"Don't touch her!" Gale's brave husband screamed. Still on his hands and knees, Dewey reached for the gun, before he could get his hand on it; the killer pulled the knife over his head, and shoved it into the center of Dewey's back. The knife punctured through his flesh and blood began rushing out, dripping down his back and onto the floor. Gale screamed as she watched her husband dieing before her eyes. She tried with all her strength to get up and save him, but the pain in both her head and ankle was too much.

"NO!" Tears streamed out of her face as blood did from her ankle. Ghost Face pulled the knife out of his back and brought it down again, he continued to stab Dewey; the small fountains of blood spraying from his back were at least three inches high.

"Gale..." His last word, was her name, Dewey lay still on the ground with his eyes wide open. She started to feel like she could move, her arm stretched out and grabbed the wall behind her, Gale was so close to stand when the killer jumped on top of her. He straddled her, squeezing her tightly with his knees. She looked up into the black eyes; Dewey's blood covered the knife and Gale was almost certain she would be seeing her husband very soon. The killer put his hand on the top of his head, and pulled the Ghost Face off. He, was a she.

"Sydney, how could you do this, why are you doing this?" Sydney Prescott. Her eyes were once so gentle, were now just in a trance as they stared at Gale so morbidly.

"Hi, Gale, it's been a while."

"Why the fuck are you doing this!" Gale asked this question even though she already knew the answer. Sydney had been through more shit than a sewer pipe, and keeping your sanity through all that was next to impossible.

"Why? Gale Weathers, author of _The Woodsborrow Murders_ wants to know why! That book is why, you made millions off the story of my mother's murder, and the murder of every close friend I ever had, and now you live in this million dollar home and could have anything you want, while my best friends and family lie in coffins six feet under! You could care less about them, you just wanted to get the story and the fame, and you got away with it! You dragged the names of the some of the greatest people I ever knew through the mud and got paid to do it! How's that for a fucking motive, out of the five killers I must admit, I like mine the best!"

"You're crazy."

"Call it what you want, you know I'm right."

"No you aren't right, that's my job."

"Your job is to report the news, not tell the world your bullshit theories about the murder of my mother!"

"Get off me," Gale tried to shake her off but she was too strong.

"Don't fight me. This is going to end tonight, you want to know how?"

"Fuck you."

"I'm going to stab you, and wait for your life to slowly slip away, then I'm going to take Dewey's gun over there and shoot myself in the head, then it's over, everyone who's apart of this is dead, it will finally be over," the smile on Sydney's face was a smile of relief as she thought about how this was going to end.

"Sydney, please don't do this. You don't have to do this."

"Yes I do. But I do have one question for you, Gale, I've already asked you but you didn't answer me."

"Sydney, don't do this."

"Who do you think will write the story of your murder?" Her devil smile came back as she asked this question, because she knew she had won. Sydney raised the knife over her head, and held it there for just a second. She looked down at Gale as she straddled her.

"Sydney, NO!" She pushed the knife through Gale's chest, blood pouring out onto the ground as Gale slowly began to die.

"Goodbye, Gale." Sydney lifted herself off of her, and crawled over to the gun lying next to Dewey's lifeless body. The pain in Gale's chest was terrible, and she could feel blood coming out of her mouth. Sydney took the Ghost Face mask off the ground and put it back over her face, the gun held firmly in her hand she raised it to her head, took one last look at Gale, and pulled the trigger. The gun boomed as blood and brain matter from Sydney's head splattered all over the wall. Her body fell to the ground. Gale looked at the knife sticking out of her chest for last few minutes of her life. She moved her eyes to the ceiling. Gale felt her soul leaving her body, and even though her eyes were wide open, the room went dark. Gale didn't hurt anymore.


End file.
